


Unwell

by cigarettestainedeyes



Category: South Park
Genre: Anxiety, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettestainedeyes/pseuds/cigarettestainedeyes
Summary: Kyle's being introduced to a whole new side of himself, the panicked side, the scared side, and he doesn't much care for it. Support comes from the last place he expected.





	Unwell

After realizing his dad was skankhunt42, Kyle began having night-terrors. It didn’t happen right away -- he repressed it for years. But eventually it all came rushing in and overtaking him. He’d toss and turn for hours overcome by his own thoughts. It caused him to remain awake until his body would shut off from exhaustion, only to be rattled awake an hour or two later -- sometimes less -- when his alarm went off.

When he did sleep, his mind was full of terrifying images; him and the guys cornering Cartman and destroying his stuff, but it would go further and they would start attacking their friend as well; his dad mutated into a troll, but with more monster-like qualities taking over his usual soft and gentle features, eyes red and crazy with his mouth foaming; his mother doubled in size and height with horrifying teeth and claws and she would chase him and his brother Ike, getting closer and closer until Kyle found himself lurching off the side of a cliff. Kyle would jerk awake, sweating and panting, heart racing.

He started waking up and running to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he would vomit until nothing was left in his stomach, and then he’d dry heave until he found himself on the floor of the bathroom, breathing so hard he imagined he was going to pass out. He would crawl, body shaking until he collapsed in the bathtub, throw on the water and lay there fully clothed until he would calm down. His mother found him twice. He would be shaking, but insisted he wasn’t cold, despite the freezing water. The third time Shelia found him she refused to listen to his protests, called the school and told them he was taking a sick day, and brought him into the hospital.

*

“Panic attacks. Extreme anxiety,” the doctor concluded after running some blood tests and sending Kyle to get an MRI, one of the most brutal experiences he’d ever been through. There was something terrifying about being in the small space, even though the doctor held his hand when he was fully inside the machine to prove how close to the outside he was, and told him it would take only four minutes; the longest 240 seconds of his life.

"But why, doctor? Why has this happened?”

Sheila wanted answers the doctor didn’t have. Past trauma could induce it, something at school might’ve triggered it, shit. just. Happens. The doctor asked if Kyle had fallen recently at all, if he may have suffered a concussion but Sheila didn’t know and Kyle wasn’t particularly talkative. He let their voices fade away as he became consumed with his own thoughts. _Why was this happening? Would this be his life now? Could he be fixed? Was he going to end up in a nut-house?_

The entire ride back his mother talked to him but he couldn’t hear a word she was saying, not really. Everything was numb.

Back at home he sat on his bed, high on the medication the doctors had given him at the hospital and uninterested in anything around him. His mother had gone to the pharmacy to get his prescription filled, but she must’ve called Stan before leaving because he showed up knocking incessantly at the door until Kyle would open up.

“Hey, dude,” he was greeted hesitantly as Stan slipped his hands into his coat pockets, “Wanna go on a walk?”

“No,” his voice cracked. He hadn’t spoken in a few hours, “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Video games?”

Kyle shook his head, taking a deep breath and opening his door more. “Can you just sit with me? Talk, not talk, whatever?”

“Of course, dude.” Stan walked in, shedding his jacket and flopping down on Kyle’s bed.

Kyle lay next to him, staring at the ceiling. He was trying to think of something to say, but also secretly hoping Stan would speak first.

“So…” Kyle let go of a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he heard Stan’s voice. “...What happened?”

It was a story Kyle could already tell he would get sick of telling. He spoke slowly and without much emotion. The drugs were doing their job of keeping him calm but his mind was a terrified smorgasbord of mixed emotions.

“Are you...okay?” Stan sounded like Kyle had told him he had cancer.

“I think? I don’t know, really.” Kyle shrugged the best he could while lying down. “I’m just scared, I guess.”

Stan was quiet and still for a few minutes. Kyle had his eyes shut, enjoying the silence. Then suddenly Stan was shuffling beside him, digging into his pocket.

“When I was going through that cynical time a few years ago, listening to Stevie Nicks really helped me.”

“Really?” Kyle raised an eyebrow but didn’t have the energy to snicker.

“Yeah, really.” Stan said, reading his sarcasm through the monotone. He pushed buttons on his phone till soft, dulcet tones began. “This one’s called Rhiannon.”

They lay there listening to the music and Kyle gave it a chance, shutting his eyes and letting it wash over him. For some reason, he started crying. Tearing up wasn’t something Kyle was fond of doing, but he was with his close friend and didn’t feel as exposed as he might’ve felt with someone else. Stan let the playlist continue, and Kyle found himself lost in Stevie’s voice. It _was_ calming, which actually came as a shock. Stan didn’t mention the crying, how Kyle was now shaking as the tears flowed.

“I-I’m just so....f-fucking mad,” Kyle sobbed. “Why is this happening?”

Stan turned the music down but didn’t stop it. “I don’t know, man. I’m so sorry. I know that’s a lame thing to say but I’m not really sure what else **to** say. You’re strong though, Kyle. You have us. You’ll get past this.”

“They were talking about in-patient therapy.” Kyle wiped at his eyes, face red. “I’m not fucking going. No way.”

“If it gets bad enough...it might not be a horrible option.”

“Dude, no. You don’t get it. I’m not going there. Not gonna be locked up in some nut-house.”

“That’s not the nicest way to talk about it, Kyle. I love ya, buddy, but you’re being kind of a dick. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need help.”

Kyle looked over at Stan, eyes still watery even though the tears had stopped. “I just need you guys,” he said softly.

Stan sat up and nodded. “And you have us,” he promised, “just....don’t tell Cartman. Not right away.”

Kyle barked out a laugh, the loudest sound he’d made all day. “Trust me. I don’t want him knowing anything about this.”

*

The next day, drowsy from the medication but determined to try and keep his routine as normal as possible, Kyle walked to the bus stop and met up with his friends.

They were already chatting, Stan and Cartman bickering about something and Kenny making muffled comments behind the hood of his sweater. He lined up next to them and put his hands in his pocket, not greeting them.

“Well, well, well. You don’t look sick to me, Jew.” Cartman immediately zoned in on him. “Faking it to get out of that history quiz? Something only your people would do.”

“No, fatass,” was all Kyle said.

Eric tried laying on a few more jabs but Kyle didn’t respond. He heard Stan tell Cartman to shut the fuck up and made a mental note to thank him later when they were alone. Kenny wouldn’t stop staring at him.

On the bus, Kenny made a point of sitting next to Kyle and he was still _staring_.

“Dude. What?” Kyle asked, somewhat rudely.

Kenny snorted. “You gonna tell me why you’re in such a fabulous fucking mood?”

“No,” he deadpanned.

“O...kay?” Kenny said, still eyeing Kyle hard.

“Dude, stop staring at me.”

“You look like a zombie.”

“Well, maybe I am one.”

“That’s my M.O, Kyle. No jacking it, ‘less it’s in San Diego.”

Kyle actually cracked a smile at that. He looked around for anyone that might be listening to them, but the other kids were all busy talking to each other. He leaned over to Kenny and took a deep breath.

“So...I’m losing it a bit I guess,” he began, and explained the whole thing.

Kenny patiently waited for him to finish. “It’s okay,” he said once Kyle was done, “my sister has the same sort of stuff going on. Hard not to when you live with parents like mine.”

“But...you’re doing okay?” Kyle asked.

Kenny looked away then huffed out a breath, shrugging. “I don’t know how I’m doing, man. I just know I have to be there for Karen. Kevin’s always off getting high with his loser friends, so that’s how he’s coping. I’m just trying to keep my mind off it by taking care of Karen.”

“You don’t think that’ll come back to bite you in the ass?” Kyle asked.

Kenny was silent for a few moments. “Everybody medicates, Kyle. It just differs from person-to-person. Some people take drugs, some people drink, some people put on a cape and try to be a superhero, even if it’s just for a night.”

Kyle nodded a little. “I guess mine’s pills,” he mumbled.

“For now,” Kenny encouraged, “you’re just at the beginning of what feels like your destruction. This is gonna make you strong man, so fall apart a little. Who knows? You might find some growth in it.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil.” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I’m being serious. Don’t hide from the pain and the anxiety. Confront it. Stay on the meds, and consider therapy. Past that, just let us know what we can do to help.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t tell Cartman yet."

Kenny gave him a wide-eyed look. “Yeah, of course, man. He doesn’t need another reason to shit all over you.”

“Yeah, god knows he’s got plenty of those already.”

“Just try to keep thinking positively.” Kenny finished as the bus pulled up in front of the school.

“Oh yeah, that’s me, Mr. Positive.” Kyle said through clenched teeth before following his classmates off the bus.

His mother must’ve gotten ahold of the school because Mrs. Nelson took him aside before class started and told him if he needed anything to not hesitate to ask; if he needed to leave class, go to the nurse, sit in the hall for a few minutes, just let her know. Kyle felt like he was four and everyone was worried about sharp edges and electrical sockets. He felt infantilized but he remained silent and just nodded in response.

Cartman was looking at him funny as he quickly walked back to his desk, unfortunately right next to the heinous sunofabitch.

“What was that about?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Damn, Ka-hl, you’re touchy as hell this morning.” Cartman snapped at him, eyebrows joining together in an angry, hurt look. It didn’t matter that Cartman dealt out more shit than Trump on twitter, he still could never take it when someone treated him the same way.

“Cause I have to deal with you everyday,” he replied without missing a beat, opening his books and trying to focus on the teacher who was attempting to start class.

Cartman seemed particularly hell-bent on figuring out what was going on, which was annoying as shit because Kyle just wanted to be left alone. Cartman followed him to his classes, sat next to him at lunch, tagged along behind him during recess; it was infuriating. He only had privacy when he went to the nurse's office in the middle of class to take his medication and even then Cartman asked for a bathroom pass and followed him, was waiting right outside when Kyle was done, arms crossed and eyes squinted, looking at him carefully, examining. Kyle huffed and quickly walked down the hall, Cartman right on his ass.

“You have AIDS.” Cartman guessed. Kyle’s face scrunched up in a glare but he didn’t bother looking back.

“No, fucker,” he spat, “that was years ago, AND it was your fucking fault.”

Cartman casually shrugged, “Ya never know...syphilis?”

“Yeah, and who am I fucking in that scenario?” Kyle whirled around and advanced on him. “Why do you need to know? Why the fuck do you care?” Cartman backed up a little, but not enough for Kyle to feel satisfied.

He was starting to shake. His body was developing a sweat that went down his back, made his face feel hot. The muscle-memory was kicking in and his brain was jumping into fight-or-flight mode. His breathing increased as his heart rate sped up.

"Leave me alone!” Kyle yelled at him as Cartman opened his mouth again, with what was probably another outrageous guess.

“Kyle, jesus!” Cartman’s face fell into one of concern and confusion.

“J-just fuck off!” He spat, hating that look. Cartman could _not_ pity him. It was disgraceful, as well as an impossible concept to wrap his head around.

A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him. He turned away from Cartman and put a hand on the wall for balance. He tried to breathe deeply but it wasn’t catching, it felt like he wasn’t getting any air in, like no matter how hard he tried the air was getting stuck. His head felt heavy.

“Jesus, Jew, are you dying?” Cartman asked.

"F-fuck. Fucking. Panic. Attacks. Okay? Asshole!” Kyle finally admitted, falling to his knees. Thank god no one was in the hall. This was embarrassing enough in front of Cartman, who was being obscenely quiet.

Cartman came around and stood in front of him for a few seconds before getting down on his knees too. Kyle expected him to say something rude, or laugh in his face, or spit on him but he did none of those things.

“Kyle, look at me.” His voice was soft, completely unlike how it usually sounded, unless he was in the middle of some devious plot.

“Fuck off!” Kyle didn’t look up at him, refused to. His vision was getting blurry. “Shit. Shit shit shit.” He muttered, trying to get some air into his lungs.

“Kyle,” Cartman tried again, “c’mon.”

“You don’t _care_ , so j-just fuck off!”

“God dammit, Kyle,” he sounded pissed this time, “you’re turning white.”

Kyle ripped his hat off, it was too hot. Cartman’s fingers were reaching out suddenly, yanking on the front of his coat. He was forced to look at Cartman, who looked extremely focused.

“Did you think the math test was hard?”

Kyle blinked. “W-what?” He didn’t understand.

“The test last week, did you think it was hard?” Cartman repeated, eyes serious.

His eyes darted back and forth, confused. He hadn't taken the test. He didn't know what Cartman was going on about. “Uh...I...I don’t...what’re you -- “

“I’m trying to talk you out of this.”

Kyle’s breathing wasn’t slowing. “I. I c-can’t...breathe.” He admitted. “Can’t...f...focus.”

“Yeah, I can tell, asshole...fuck.”

He was pulled in suddenly, and Cartman’s mouth was on his. It was a shock. He froze up. Cartman didn’t take Kyle’s immobility as a snub, just continued to press their mouths together, hands pulling Kyle closer like he would slip away. The heat of Cartman’s mouth was overwhelming and after a few seconds he felt the swipe of a tongue. Something switched on in Kyle’s brain and he pushed the other boy away quickly.

“What the absolute _fuck_ , Cartman?!” He shouted as he fell back on his ass, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. He knew he was red. Cartman stared at him for a few moments. Kyle returned the look, burning with questions.

Then he realized he was breathing normally again. He was confused and a little scared that Cartman had really lost it this time, but he was breathing.

“What...what the fuck?” Kyle repeated.

“You’re okay now?” Cartman asked.

“I...no! You just --”

“--distracted you, dumbass. You couldn’t talk, you were spazzing so bad, so I had to do something. Couldn’t have you passing out on me in the middle of the damn hall.”

“Why...why did you do that?”

Cartman shrugged and his eyes darted around for a few seconds before answering. “I’ve uh...I’ve had panic attacks for years now.”

Kyle blinked rapidly, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

"Yeah, for years, since my, uh…” he cleared his throat, “since my dad left I guess. They started a few years back and have gotten really bad a couple of times. I’m on medication but when it’s really bad I go to the nurse’s office and just...talk to her. My mom helps me out if she’s around. The, uh...the guys don’t know.” He admitted.

Kyle flushed a bit. “You never told us? Why?”

Cartman wasn’t looking at him now. “Cause why the fuck should I have? So you guys could laugh about it?”

Kyle looked down at the ground. He himself hadn’t wanted Cartman to know because he felt like _he_ would’ve done nothing but taunt and tease...and it turned out Cartman had been afraid of the same thing. How many times has Kyle been the cause of them? Or just the guys in general? On what occasions did Cartman have to find a quiet, dark corner to hide in while he panicked. Kyle felt a pang of regret and sympathy wash through him.

“That was...strangely helpful of you,” he said to Cartman.

The other boy shrugged and got to his feet, before offering a hand to Kyle and helping him get up. “Yeah, well don’t fucking tell anybody, I mean it. Otherwise I’ll kill you.”

Kyle didn’t smile or respond. He had a feeling Cartman was lying about that. “Yeah, okay. But why did you kiss me?”

“What, should I have slapped you?” Cartman snapped, rubbing the back of his head after he spoke, “just don’t fucking worry about it, okay?”

He turned and started walking away from Kyle, but then paused and looked back at him.

“Hey, if you need to talk, or if I’m around and you start feeling like this again...just come to me. I’ll help you out. Trust me, I know how it feels, and even if you think I don’t...I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might expand on this? I might go in and add more? I don't know, I just needed to get some stuff out.


End file.
